


Communion

by crazyjane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bloodplay, Mindplay, Obsession, Other, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/pseuds/crazyjane
Summary: It wasn't love.  It wasn't even pain.  It was too primal, too basic to be anything as complicated, as human as that.  Two spirits, twoessencesfinding the way to know each other - not a fusion, but a sharing of everything you were, everything that mattered.  Communion.





	Communion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [expoduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/expoduck/gifts).



>  
> 
> This is for Kat, my wonderful enabling fellow traveller in dark places from across the pond. You're a fiend. (blows kiss)
> 
>  
> 
> Fair warning: this is a _dark_ piece, for all it's consensual. Please be aware. Trigger warnings for sexual violence.

It wasn't much in the beginning, was it? A glance exchanged across the room at yet another gallery opening, too much sickly sweet cask wine and dried-out finger food, and the boredom was so great you felt like screaming. Something in her eyes, an answer to a question you never needed to ask, a recognition. And then she was moving, turning towards the door, knowing you would follow.

Rough sex, oh yeah, that's one name for it, but that didn't begin to touch what it was to the two of you. It wasn’t just fucking, or kink, or even punishment. It was passion. Her hands clawing, raking your back, cries when you sank your teeth into her white throat. You bruised each other, marked each other, used teeth and nails to rip at each other's flesh - not just for the thrill, or even to leave some kind of ownership marks. You did it because it was _necessary_ , because it was the only way to let out what was driving you, to touch deeply and open yourself up to the same searching, desperate touch. It wasn't important that anybody understand, because what you really needed to say, what was twisting and aching inside you both, had no words.

It wasn't love. It wasn't even pain. It was too primal, too basic to be anything as complicated, as human as that. Two spirits, two _essences_ finding the way to know each other - not a fusion, but a sharing of everything you were, everything that mattered. Communion. And every time, it left you shattered, gasping, exhausted - unable to move, unable to do anything but stare into each other's eyes and slowly, reluctantly, become yourselves again.

But you had to go further, you sensed something beyond even this. The first time her teeth met hard enough to tear your skin and you tasted your own blood in her mouth, you felt it, and it nearly destroyed you. Staring at each other, shocked eyes, reddened lips, barely under control. She'd found the next key. You grabbed her, captured her mouth with your own, tasted your self on her, both of you shaking, terrified and exhilarated. She was whispering against your mouth, "I saw you, I saw _into_ you, oh God," and you bit down, hard.

That's when others started to notice. Her friends asked delicate questions about her cuts and bruises, and gave you increasingly suspicious looks. Your friends joked about it, at first, calling her a hellcat in faintly envious tones - but even they fell silent when you turned up one night with your cheek torn open by her teeth. One muttered something about stitches, but neither of you wanted to erase what you had done. The marks were your map, your journey charted in language only you could read.

You had come so far, but there was still more to reach for, more of each other to know. Drawing blood was a key, but you could only glimpse it. Even that became just another small step when you crushed her hand so tightly that you felt tiny bones splintering, and she screamed and came up off the mattress to slam you into the wall so hard that your teeth clicked and your vision burst apart in fragments of pain and revelation. Then she was on top of you, biting into your throat, straddling you, gasping harshly. Blindly you reached up and twisted your hand in her hair, pulling her head back, locking your gaze with hers, both of you seeing past eyes, past sex, past pain, seeing inside. She flowed into you, surrounding, penetrating, exquisite. _Necessary_.

It only lasted a moment before the wave broke and you were both alone again. She collapsed against your chest, sobbing uncontrollably. After a while, you untangled your fingers from her hair and cradled her broken hand. Somewhere, a part of you was recoiling in horror - you had done this to the woman you _loved_ \- but it was a very small part, and as you stared at her you remembered and knew you had to go further again. Now you had seen it, _felt_ it, you couldn't go back. Some resonance remained between you; she raised her head and whispered through her swollen, bleeding mouth, "One more step. Yes."

The next day you went out and searched shop after shop for the right knives, emptying your bank accounts to pay for them. On the way home she reached for your hand, drew it to her mouth and bit down. There was the faintest ghost of communion, and you felt her shuddering. You squeezed her bandaged fingers and watched her face go white.

It had to be a ceremony. You changed the bedclothes, putting on a white sheet to catch the patterns. One at a time, you showered slowly, dried off, stepped naked into the bedroom. She locked the door and slid the key underneath, turned to you. There was a glow in her face very like fever. You unwound the bandage from her hand, devouring the sight of her fingers flexing so strangely, so wrongly. Without taking your eyes from her, you knelt on the bed. Your knees touched as she sat facing you. Unwrapping her knife, she reversed its blade and offered it to you as you offered yours to her. There was a flash of silver in the candlelight as she kissed the blade and laid the point against your chest. Still staring into her eyes, you gently scraped the skin between her breasts with the edge.

You saw her muscles tense, and you felt it as though it were your own nerve endings on fire. You were becoming one creature, bruised, broken, scarred, a heartbeat away. You turned the blades, laid open your skin, and at last began the long, spiralling fall towards communion.


End file.
